


Hell Is Where You Make It

by Deans_Fetish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Gore, M/M, NOT FOR THE SQUEEMISH, Original Character Death(s), Other, Swearing, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-09
Updated: 2009-11-09
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8725315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deans_Fetish/pseuds/Deans_Fetish
Summary: Sam tells Lucifer to go to Hell... Lucifer is NOT pleased.





	

Blood.

There was so much blood.

It covered the walls, running in scarlet rivulets down onto the floor.

Spray and spatter marks marred the curtains.

A smear of it in the center of the floor told the story of a scuffle, or some sort of struggle.

From that, there was a long smear leading off toward a wall, seemingly disappearing into nothingness.

The coppery stench of it filled Dean's nostrils as he staggered into the room, clutching weakly at the walls to steady his wobbly legs, hold himself upright when his body only wanted to fall to the floor and give in to deaths pull.

His own body peppered with cuts and deep gashes that oozed crimson rivers.

The slice that ran from his shoulder to hip bone was the worst of all of them, thick blood still ran from it, cascading down his bare body, dripping onto the floor at his feet.

Sammy.

He had to find Sam.

They had been separated when this nightmare began, when hell on earth became more than an angels dire warning, and instead the only reality that they knew.

He could still hear Sam telling Lucifer to shove it up his ass.

The fallen angel had found them, even with the angel cloaking art Castiel had tattooed on their ribs, somehow that evil sonuvabitch had managed.

Lucifer, he'd been so slick, saying all the right things to break Sam.

Dean had stood there, held at bay be a group of demons, unable to interfere, but mentally screaming at Sam to stay strong and by God, his brother had.

Even with tears streaming down his face, Sam had looked Lucifer in the eye and told him to stick his offer where the sun didn't shine.

Dean didn't think he'd ever been so proud of his brother.

That had been their last and only moment of triumph.

Lucifer's eyes had flashed an eerie amber, like the dying embers of a fire, and then in the next moment, they were here, in this hell on earth.

Separated, but able to hear one another's screams of pain and horror as they were tortured mercilessly.

"S-s-sammy?" Dean called out, brow furrowing as he frowned at the weakness in his own voice, the quiet slurring of it.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Dean staggered forward on legs that shook and trembled with each sluggish step he took.

His bare foot slipped and slid in the blood in the center of the floor causing Dean to fall forward.

His body smacking down against the hard marble floor, even as though he managed to halfway catch himself with his hands.

Palms smacking down hard, causing skin to burn and crack, hands turning a deep red, the deep gash across his chest, running from shoulder to hip ripped even further.

More blood, his blood poured down onto the once crisp white floor.

A puddle grew under him in the time it took for Dean to roll weakly over onto his back.

A groan of pain tore from Dean's throat, his chest rising and falling hard, heart hammering him his chest.

The hard, fast pumping of his heart causing his blood to sing through his system, wounds seeping more of the crimson liquid.

As much as Dean wanted nothing more than to just lay there and allow the sweet release of death to claim his pain wracked body, he knew he couldn't.

Sam.

He had to find Sam.

Rolling slowly back over, pain-filled grunts and groans tearing from his throat, Dean pushed up on his hands and knees, slowly starting to crawl his way across the room, half pulling himself along across the unyielding surface of the floor.

Lifting a trembling hand to place against the far wall as Dean reached it, he turned his head to the right and that's when he saw him, laying in the center of the next room.

His body in a heap, blood covering his naked form, his chestnut hair dark with it.

"S-s-sammy?" Dean whispered out, body trembling.

Exhaustion, fear, pain, and blood loss combining together to make the elder Winchester nearly useless.

Curling his legs up against his body, arms tucked against his chest, Dean kept his gaze laser focused on his baby brother.

The scarlet puddle under Sam didn't seem to be getting any bigger.

Either he'd stopped bleeding or...

No, he couldn't be.

Dean strained to see if he could see a rise and fall of breaths coming from his brother at all, but his own vision was blurry, unable to see at this distance, even though Sam was no more than a few feet away.

"Sssam..." Dean mumbled, as he slowly unfolded himself, reached out to pull his way along on the floor.

He had to get to Sam, had to get to his brother.

Fingers gripped at the cold marble, tips turning white as Dean dragged his nearly useless body along toward Sam's prone form.

Reaching his brother, Dean was panting out his breaths in exhaustion, lips parted as pain glazed orbs ran over his brother's form, taking in the many cuts, gashes and other wounds peppering his brother's body.

He was almost willing to believe in that moment that maybe Sam had went through more than he had, though at the time, he hadn't thought anything could be worse.

One of Sam's arms was raised above him, the other lay bent, his hand curled into a loose fist near his head.

His legs matched his arms in that one lay out straight, the other bent at the knee, lifted high and curled against the floor as he lay there on his stomach.

His face was buried against his arm, long bangs adding to the cover, making it impossible for Dean to see him clearly the way he was laying.

Reaching a trembling hand out, Dean gripped his brother's shoulder.

"Sssammy?" Dean called softly to him, voice quivering and slurring even more than before.

Blood oozed between Dean's fingers as he gripped his brother's shoulder, almost as if Sam were bleeding from his very pores.

But that wasn't possible, right?

Not even for Lucifer to do to someone.

Dean's brow furrowed as he watched the blood ooze and slide over his hand, before gently pulling back on his brother's shoulder.

"S-s-sam?"

Sam's body was a dead weight, not budging.

Putting more effort into the task, Dean got his brother rolled over, his breaths panting out from using energy Dean just didn't have in his weakened state.

Heart hammering, sending more blood to pour from his wounds, sliding down his freckled flesh to pool in small puddles around him.

As Sam rolled, Dean gasped a breath, eyes widening.

"Sonuva... Sam!" Dean growled out as he reached for Sam.

Sam's body was littered with wounds, some deep, some not, bruises speckled his flesh, not an inch was left without some sort of wound.

But the worst, the thing that had Dean in a panic was the gash across Sam's stomach, from which protruded his intestine, spilling out, as though someone had pulled at them.

Unthinking, working on nothing more than the instinct that whatever was suppose to be inside that was now outside, needed to be shoved back inside, Dean started to shove the length of intestine back into Sam's stomach.

At first Sam lay unmoving save for the small jerking motions caused by Dean's frantic shoving at his body to put it back together.

Sam body suddenly convulsed, back arching ever so slightly off the floor as a pained groan tore from his lips, eyes squeezed tightly closed.

A sob tore from Sam, shoulder's shaking as he shook his head, "No, don't do this, don't so this. No more, I - I can't..."

Dean's attention snapped to Sam's face, eyes widening.

Alive.

Conscious.

Dean's gaze darted between Sam's face and his stomach, where his hands were half shoved in along with the length of intestine that didn't seem to want to stay inside anymore.

"Sammy!?"

Pulling his hands out of Sam's stomach he reached for his face.

Jade orbs searched Sam's face as he held it between blood soaked hands.

Sam tried to turn his head, shaking it slowly.

"No, no, no, no..."

"Sammy, it's me. It's Dean. I gotcha, s'gonna be alright," Dean soothed.

Sam's eyes slowly blinked open, the hazel pain glazed and tear filled.

"D-d-d-dean?" he stammered and swallowed hard, choking on blood that filled his mouth, oozed out the corner to drip down his neck.

"Oh God, Sammy, what in the hell did they do to you!?" Dean asked him, tears in his own eyes.

Sam shook his head.

So much, there was so much to tell in order to answer that question, but he just didn't have the energy.

"M'cold, Dean," Sam told him weakly, eyelids fluttering closed, before he forced himself to open them again, mere slits of pain-filled hazel.

"No! No, Sam! We're gonna be alright, you hear me!? W-w-we're gonna get outta here!" Dean told him, his teeth started to chatter as shock began to set in.

Sam shook his head, "No... not gonna be okay," he swallowed and gagged on blood.

Blood stained his white teeth pink, dribbled and oozed down his chin.

"I - I'm so sorry," he told Dean softly, "I should - should have said 'yes'."

"No - no, S-s-sammy... you did the right thing."

"C-c-coulda m-m-made a deal," Sam argued weakly, eyes slowly closing.

"No more deals, Sammy. No more deals, remember?" Dean reminded, voice soft as he sniffled, gathering Sam in his arms.

Dean moved to lay down on the floor beside Sam, holding him close.

"Ssso c-c-cold," Sam murmured, shivering, eyes closed.

"Shshsh, I know, Sammy. I know. I'll k-k-keep you warm," Dean stammered, his own eyelids growing heavy.

Dean tried to think of better times, of laying warm in a bed with Sam, of kissing and touching, of loving one another.

Tried not to think of this, here, now.

Of pain and death, standing over them both.

"M'tired," Sam mumbled softly.

Dean leaned his head in, burying his face against Sam's blood soaked neck, brushing his lips across the tender flesh.

"I know, baby boy. Shshsh, go to sleep. I'll be here," Dean murmured gently as tears ran down his face, mixing with the blood.

His blood, Sam's blood, their mingled blood.

Reaching for Sam's hand, Dean laced their fingers together.

"I gotcha, I gotcha," he whispered.

A moment later he felt Sam's spirit leave his body.

Dean Winchester had never thought you could really 'feel' that, thought it was some 'chick-flick' crap that women said.

But it was true.

He knew it as much as he knew the moment when Sam stop breathing.

"Love you, Sammy," Dean whispered softly before relaxing into his brother's arms, allowing the numb nothingness that had chased him since they had suddenly and miraculously been released from Lucifer's hell on earth, to claim him, eagerly following his brother into death.


End file.
